


Of memories and how to keep them

by siberianchan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: I wrote this while sober, M/M, Viktor with a K, Yakov is everyone's grumpy dad and granddad and uncle and I love him ok, Yuuri with two u, and Yuuri's got a cold, and gets Russian remedies, but well, contains some very mild erotica if you squint, so it's really vague, you all know where this is heading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siberianchan/pseuds/siberianchan
Summary: Yuuri's memory is severely impacted when he's intoxicated as we know and it has consequences.Or... what happened near the end of episode 9.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because it was peeving me how Yuuri didn't seem to remember Viktor's "I wish you'd never retire." Like... really peeved me.  
> This thing basically was born in the span of a few hours, right after episode 12, but well. No internet and the need for some editing and no internet, and - NO INTERNET made it kinda hard to post it until now. (thank goodness for Christmas to be over and coffee shops being open again).
> 
> Also, Yakov needs more love. Like, A LOT more. Yakov is awesome. And I have a lot of feelings for the Russian team in general and...
> 
> Yeah. Just enjoy the show.

 Victor had warned him about Russian Winters being extremely cold, especially for someone born and raised in a warm place like Kyushu.

What he hadn't warned him about were that Russian fall could be just as bad.

Yuuri thought he had experienced cold in Detroit – he was a figure skater, for god's sake, he really shouldn't be bothered by cold anyways – but here he was, a stomach full of very delicious pirozhki (with katsudon filling. He had to send a pirozhki recipe to his mom, just in case Yuri would show up at Hasetsu one day again, just to pay him back for this) and fighting himself through a gust of cold wind, that cut through his coat and scarf. Urgh. He really couldn't wait to get back into the warmth of his hotel room and – then, later, tomorrow – on the plane, back to Japan, back home – back to where Viktor was.

Yuri, apparently annoyed by his constant chattering turned around. “Oi, stop it, is not that cold!”

“Well, not everyone's used to subarctic life conditions”, he grumbled, “in Japan when it is like that you stay inside, drink and complain about the cold. The rest of the world stays inside, drinks and complains about the cold, how do you stand the winter?”

Yuri thought about it and then flashed him a sheepish grin. “Stay inside. Drink. Complain.”

Ah.

Yuuri chuckled, which turned into a sneeze. “Urgh. Sorry.”

Yuri only rolled his eyes. “You get a hot bath, katsudon, hear me? You're no fun to beat when you're sick.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Yuuri nodded obediently, mostly because just right now the thought of a hot bath was even more appealing than the thought of being with Viktor again.

 

The hot bath warmed him up, all right, but in the big picture, it helped him jack shit.

He had skyped with a very tired looking Viktor for a bit, hearing that Makkachin was recovering quickly – thank goodness – and then he had gone to sleep feeling not exactly great.

He had tried to apologize for his performance, he really had, but – as it was sometimes his habit – Viktor would deflect it with a smile, so there was that as well.

He definitely had to step up his game in the final, to make up for this, he had to.

Right now, sitting in the hotel restaurant, a plate of what might constitute as a continental breakfast in front of him, he very much did not feel like he would ever be able to do anything like that.

His head felt like splitting open every moment and his nose managed the miracle of being numbed and itchy at the same time. Plus, whenever he swallowed his throat felt like lined with sandpaper and the feeling of being frozen all the way through wouldn't go away.

Normally he would have sat with Viktor, chatting, going over either the upcoming program or discussing what went well and what he messed up the previous day.

As it was, he found himself conjured up in the middle of some Russians, either mumbling still half-asleep weirdness – Georgi and, amusingly the Baranovskaya – eating in grumpy silence – Mr. Feltsman and Yuri, no surprise here – or amiably chatting, despite the early hour – Mila, not surprising as well.

Maybe Yuuri shouldn't have indicated that he actually understood a good chunk of what she said, since the moment he smiled at a mildly amusing story, her chatting increased quite a bit, her breakfast getting cold quickly.

“You not eating?” she finally asked, nodding to his barely touched plate.

“Eh... I have to watch my weight”, he shrugged, causing the Baranovskaya to raise a sharp eyebrow.

“You were a pupil of Minako Okukawa I gathered?”

Yuuri stared down at his plate. “Da”, he mumbled, hoping nobody expected more Russian conversational skills, because, no, no, no, not right now.

“Then you should know better than to skip meals", she commented. "Also, I would like you to deliver my greetings and good wishes to her. It has been too long."

Yuuri nodded. “Uh... He sneezed. “Sorry.”

Mila smiled in sympathy. "Been out in the cold too long, eh?"

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Warned ya. Oi, Yakov.”

Mr. Feltsman, so far having been left to his own thoughts raised an eyebrow. “Da?”

“You got your cold remedy with ya? The katsudon needs some.”

Both Mila and Georgi snickered at the nickname, but Yuuri found himself too tired to care.

Mr. Feltsman took a look at Yuuri. “Da. You come to my room with me.”

By the time they had finished up, Yuuri's headache had grown bad enough to make him dizzy. Mr. Feltsman, rummaging through his suitcase shot him a dark look.

“You get sick often?”

“Not really, no”, Yuuri mumbled. “I'm sorry.”

Mr. Feltsman found a large, brown bottle and poured something equally brown into a small mug from his nightstand. “Drink.”

Yuuri obeyed.

The liquid turned out quite syrupy, sweet and bitter with herbs and burning his mouth with a generous helping of cinnamon and – oh no – vodka.

“You no practice today”, he ordered. “No practice for some days. Three at least. Viktor tells you same if he is smart.” He paused. “Or if he likes you. If he likes you, I think.”

Yuuri once again nodded obediently while cinnamon, ginger and alcohol finally sent warmth through his body. He didn't even feel like protesting the slight jab at Victor – supposedly, he had heard worse when he had trained under Mr. Feltsman himself.

“When do you fly?”

“Eight pm." Oh dear, his head was light.

“I bring you. You rest and drink medicine.”

 

He would have expected that the Russians kept to themselves, but they actually quite frequently dropped in on him, chatting, talking about their programs with him and Mila telling embarrassing stories about Viktor during training Yuri – dropping in for a bit before heading off to spend time with his grandfather – poking fun at him and Georgi griping about his ex-girlfriend and how lucky Yuuri could consider himself never to have known true heartbreak.

He wouldn't remember most of it later but he appreciated the company nonetheless.

Occasionally Mr. Feltsman dropped by to give him more of that medicine and finally he came in grumbling: “Time for go. Come.”

“Give Vitya or love”, Mila chirped, hugging him. “See you in Barcelona Katsudonitchka.”

“Will do”, Yuuri mumbled before clasping hands with Yuri. "Thanks again.”

The boy left it with grumbling: “Get better already, will ya.”

Very, _very_ occasionally Yuuri felt the urge to hug and maybe outright cuddle him and it was quite beneficial to his health that there was always something that kept him from following that urge.

In this case, it was Mr. Feltsman grabbing his shoulder. “Is time to go”, he announced, dragging Yuuri to his car.

The ride passed in silence and in silence Mr. Feltsman stood while Yuuri checked in.

They were already running a tad bit late. He'd have half an hour left to get through security and board, and well, he didn't know what to say anyways, so...

He took a wobbly bow and oh – his head felt even lighter now. “Thank you for taking care of me for the past few days and thank you for...” For not forcing Viktor to go back. For being such a reliable person for Yuri (god knew the boy needed it) For very likely having made Viktor who he was. “Thank you, Mr. Feltsman.”

Mr. Feltsman grunted something that sounded almost friendly and then dug in his pockets, procuring the bottle and a metal mug which then got energetically filled with the remainder of the medicine. “There, drink.”

“Oh, no... you brought this for your own team, I couldn't...”

“Brought enough for three teams", Mr. Feltsman growled. "Enough if every skater was sick, enough for my team if you drink one bottle in a day. Drink."

Yuuri, shaking, emptied the mug in one big chug. It was definitely a lot more than any of the last doses Mr. Feltsman had given him. Well, hopefully, that would mean he'd sleep through the whole flight.

“Thank you..." And then, pressing the mug back into Mr. Feltsman hands he turned, grabbed his backpack and wandered away, towards the plane, towards home, back to Viktor.

 

He slept through much of the flight, waking up when Fukuoka Airport was maybe an hour away, head still awfully fuzzy, nose still sort of numb and clogged and thoughts scrambled, although he did have some idea what to say.

The only thing he would ever clearly remember was seeing Viktor and running towards him and how reuniting – falling into him, holding him, feeling his arms, his body, his whole being wrapped around him – took away most of that awful weight that had rested on his shoulders for the last few days.

 

 

 

The immediate aftermath after the award ceremony was – of course – messy. There was Yuuri, sheepishly presenting the silver medal to Viktor, Viktor playfully chiding him, the emotional re-establishing of what they were to each other and then Phichit and Chris and Minako and Mari and Mila and Sara were jumping around them, all hugging in turn Yuri and Viktor and Yuuri and actually managing to pat JJ on the back and congratulating him on the bronze.

JJ amazingly took it in stride and even seemed proud of the two steps down from the goal he had been so sure of reaching.

Otabek finally rescued Yuri from Maris squealing clutches, hugging him tightly. Yuri didn't even put up one bit of a fight and furiously blushed at whatever Otabek was whispering into his ear.

It was adorable and both Yuuri and Viktor cooed a soft and completely honest “Aaw”, before being caught and having to run for their dear lives.

And then they ran into the press. Of course.

And had to answer questions. Of course.

And let the world know their plans for the future, a future together and on the ice and...

Finally, Yuuri – with a chuckle taken straight out of the Eros – slipped an arm around Viktor's waist. "I'm so sorry, but the skate and the ceremony took it pretty much out of us. Both Viktor and I will be gladly answering all your questions at the opening of the banquet tonight or tomorrow morning. In the meantime the other finalists will gladly reveal their plans for the future to you, we are sure."

And with that, he had nudged Viktor to leave and they stumbled the short way from the stadium towards a taxi and then the hotel, never letting go, always holding on.

Yuuri had to admit – he really admired Viktor's self-control. His hands had been trembling the whole time, twitching, pulling Yuuri closer, releasing him again just a little bit without letting him go and then pulling him closer again.

The door to their room closed behind them and Yuuri was wrapped in the tightest embrace, receiving the fiercest kiss and he pulled Viktor closer, ever closer, only breaking apart from him after a long, long time of being pressed against the door.

“Love you”, Viktor whispered into the crook of Yuuri's neck, “love you, love you, love you, dearest, sweetest, loveliest...” And then straightening up a little, he chuckled. “Also the worst person with flirting I've ever met.”

Yuuri blinked up at him. "Huh?"

“I tried so hard to get you to ravish or at least kiss me there and then and all for naught... not that I complain about your response...”

Yuuri cocked his head. “Well, maybe you should teach me about flirting then? Maybe then I'd get a hint?”

“I taught you a thing or two about eros and look at you. Getting you to understand how flirting works might be a good deal harder, but oh when I succeed, what a monster I'd create..." Again a kiss and Yuuri was turned around and navigated through the room, his steps closely following Viktor's lead until he stumbled and fell, pulling Viktor with him. God, he wanted to feel him so much, so deeply and he drank in the sensation of his hands moving the fabric of his costume over his skin, mixed with the heat of his touch.

And he just wanted to feel more, so he had his hands busy with the buttons of Viktor's shirt, all the while he was finally, _finally_ peeled out of his costume. They had always been quite physical in their affection and quite open about it, but sex still played rather a minor part in their relationship, maybe because of all that touching and cuddling, plus that being a professional athlete did burn up a lot of energy. Neither of them minded or paid much attention to it anyways.

Right now, however, this sort of intimacy was just what they needed, feeling each other with every fiber, reaffirming each other and just plain dealing with the mess that had been the last few days and communicating their joy of them being who and what they were to each other.

Viktor held him close, marveling in the feeling of his skin on Yuuris as much as Yuuri himself did, kissing every bit of him he could reach without having to move too far away from his mouth and Yuuri had trouble remembering having experienced that much bliss ever before, but of course he had.

So, Viktor suddenly being a little bit away from him made for a slightly rude awakening.

“Eh...” It took a moment for his head to clear. “Vitya?”

Viktor didn't quite seem in a bad mood. Far from it, his face is deeply flushed, his hair a wonderful, wonderful mess and his state of clothing almost nonexistent. Still, he looked serious, and maybe a little pouty. “Yuuri, I still have to ask... how should I express myself so you understand my intentions of being with you until this whole fucking planet smashes into the sun?”

Yuuri chuckled. “I think I'm getting an inkling about it.”

“And it took me only a breakdown at a breakup, before that announcing our engagement and – oh, right – before _that_ outright stating that I want to stay with you to get the message across.”

What?

Viktor sighed and then chuckled again, running a finger over Yuuri's cheek. “Sometimes I wonder whether you do this on purpose, just to mess with me.”

“Never, really... but...” Yuuri's brow furrowed in concentration. “When did you say something like that?”

Viktor mumbled something in Russian about how he had always thought Japanese people were good with implication and insinuation.

“What?” Now Yuuri felt a twinge of actual offense, considering how the day had gone.

Viktor blinked at him. “When you came back from Moscow. You asked me to be your coach until you retire. Remember that?”

No. No, he most certainly didn't.

Regardless, Yuuri did try his best to keep his face from betraying the utter confusion he was in. “And...”

Viktor's brow furrowed. "I said that I wished you'd never retire."

Oh. Oh, dear, of course. Of course, of course, and no wonder Yuuri's words had hurt him so much and...

Yuuri knew, he had never been too good at keeping a neutral face (a fact Viktor and Minako-sensei always gleefully made use of by forcing him into a round of poker), and of course, it failed now as well.

Maybe the fact that he uttered a quite heartfelt “Oh fuck...” helped as well.

Viktor's eyes widened. "You don't remember."

“I remember pretty much glomping you”, Yuuri admitted. Considering how the last time his memory had lapsed had went, this was very distinctively a step up. “And that I wasn't half naked.”

“You were sick. Yakov had written I should let you rest for a few days." Viktor's brow evened out and then furrowed again. "How much of his special remedy has he given you, exactly?"

“A bottle spread over the day."

Now Victor's brow evened out once more. "Ah... well..." And he drew Yuuri closer. "We know how intoxication works on your memory."

Yuuri made a face. “Yes, _you_ know it, I only ever hear about it.”

“But you're sober right now.” Smiling, Viktor pulled him closer again. “Perfect opportunity to remind you and to make sure you don't forget.”

He did.

He etched his love into Yuuri's skin with his breath and his kisses, waved it into his hair and buried it deep into his body and at last wrapped Yuuri in it by closing his arms around him.

“Too bad”, he sighed into the nape of Yuuri's neck, “but with Yuroshka being so young and you... it pains me to say it, but our wedding will be an entirely booze-free affair. Chris will hate me, I tell you. Will never speak a word to me again, but it will be worth it.”

Yuuri turned around in his arms. “Afraid I'd forget I'm married to you the next day?”

Yuuris phone buzzed.

“You have to admit, love, your track record speaks against you.”

Yuuri chuckled, reaching out for the phone and checking it. Oh, this was good. “Point taken. Speaking of my track record, when does the banquet start again?”

Viktor groaned, clearly not happy with that turn of the topic. “Too soon. Don't wanna go...”

“They got good food.”

“Eh.”

“And alcohol.”

“Hm...”

Yuuri smiled. “And since _I_ intend to go, I might need someone to keep me from hitting the champagne too much. I'd really like to remember how I kick our little punk's ass this time around.”

Viktor blinked. “Eh?”

Yuri turned his phone, so Viktor could read the screen. “He challenged me. To a dance off. For gold.”

Viktor blinked again and then, he grinned, while releasing Yuuri, so they could clean up and get dressed. “You know what, he's gonna be the best man.”

“He'll kill you.”

“You wouldn't let him.”

Yuuri hurried into the bathroom, calling over his shoulder: “Only if I remember after tonight!”

 


End file.
